


You're The One That I Want

by Lindz (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Grease AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lindz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roderich and Gilbert share a brief Summer romance. With Roderich set to return to Austria, they part ways. But when Roderich's family decides against going home, Roderich is none to pleased to find that Gilbert is not that kind soul he remembered. Will Gilbert be able to win Roderich over ? (PruAus Grease AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This all came about after talking to tumblr user purplepantsandpradaglasses, so thanks to her for chatting, and for listening to me babble about this.  
> 

The evening was beautiful, the sunset reflected on the sea, the sand coarse but warm between their toes; it would have been perfect if it wasn't their last night together. Roderich entwined his fingers in Gilbert's and squeezed them tightly, not because he was scared and needed reassurance, but because he was heading back to Austria soon and he'd never get the chance to hold onto Gilbert like this again.  
He kept his head down facing his feet, for he knew that if he looked into those remarkable eyes, or if he caught a glimpse of that cheeky grin, there would be the distinct possibility that he'd burst into tears.  
  
"I doubt we'll see each other again." he remarked bitterly, mentally cursing life, responsibilities, and everything that kept him away from love.  
  
Gilbert gently placed his hand beneath Roderich's chin and raised it slightly, locking eyes with his Summer fling. "Sure we will." He replied with such confidence that Roderich almost deluded himself into believing him. Gilbert slowly leaned in close, pressing his forehead to Roderich's, and gave him one last parting kiss.

\---

"Francis !" Antonio exclaimed rushing up to one of his closest friends, a classmate he hadn't seen all Summer. "So where have you been these past months, did you go back to France ?"  
  
A man with a flair for the dramatic, Francis put a hand to his chest and sighed, "Sadly not, I've been worked like a dog this season, but it'll be worth it when I finally buy a car." Antonio chuckled softly and shook his head, it was good to be back - even if an ungodly amount of stress awaited them in this, their final year of high school. Their reunion was interrupted by unmistakable laughter of Gilbert Beilschmidt coming from across the courtyard. Gilbert stood at the centre of a semicircle of girls who laughed along with him as he spoke. Typical Gilbert, flirting before the school year had even began.  
  
Eager to hear how his vacation had been, the duo beckoned Gilbert over with a whistle from Antonio. "Who are the lucky girls ?" Francis asked with a suggestive lift of a brow.  
  
Gilbert scoffed at the thought, he wasn't flirting, he couldn't help it if he was just naturally charming. It's not like he had the slightest bit of interest in any of them, he just liked their attention, "Nobody, they're just the same classmates we've had every year."  
  
Francis wasn't quite buying Gilbert's explanation, the man would attempt to seduce the Queen simply because he fancied the challenge, but he was far too interested in catching up with his friends to press the matter. "So what did you do all Summer ?"  
  
""You know, just hung out at the beach. I met this one guy there, he was cool I suppose." Thought he succeeded in acting so very calm and aloof, it was unexpected for Gilbert to praise someone immediately off the bat.'  
Francis and Antonio shared a look, was it possible that Gilbert was smitten ? But before they got a chance to question him, the bell for class rang and he was off.

\---  
  
Roderich fidgeted with the end of his coat as walked to class with Elizabeta. He wasn't sure what to wear for his first day of American high school, back in Austria his private school had required a uniform and thus eliminated all the needless worry over fashion.  
  
How he wished he could be back home in Vienna, The City of Music, The City of Dreams; not little Rydell that seemed painfully empty now that the tourists had departed. Granted he did have an amazing Summer, but it was the company he loved so much, not the setting.  
  
Why his parents had decided on staying he'd never understand. He felt completely out of his depth, what if hazing was a thing here ? What if he found classes too difficult through English ?  
  
Roderich thanked god for his neighbour Elizabeta, here was someone to ease his fears and perhaps make his school days bearable, but the sooner the year was over the better. Once he'd received his diploma he'd be on the first flight back home.

\---  
  
Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert sat on the bleachers eating their lunch and observing the football players out on the field, mocking occasionally when someone dropped the ball, and bursting into laughter when Mathias stumbled over a misplaced helmet. But the athletes antics could not hold their attention for long, and soon enough Francis and Antonio were pushing Gilbert to expand on his Summer adventures. "  
  
So tell us what really went on at the beach." Antonio teased, elbowing Gilbert in the arm and earning himself a scowl in return.  
  
"Nothing happened." Gilbert insisted, perhaps a bit too harshly because his friends rolled their eyes in reply. Of course something had happened at the beach, he'd fallen for Roderich. But he wasn't about to start gushing about it like some lovesick puppy.  
  
Francis, sitting on the bench behind Gilbert, grasped him by the shoulders and whispered into his ear, just loud enough for Antonio to hear as well. "Stop denying your feelings Gilbert, we heard how you spoke this morning. You're infatuated with this man."  
  
Gilbert had no idea how to answer Francis, he was used to him claiming to be in head over heels in love every couple of weeks, but Francis pinning that emotion on him was new. Was he supposed to come right out and agree? Say 'Yes I think I might be in love, if there even is such a thing, but it doesn't matter now because he's half way across the globe.' No no no, that was far too sappy for him. He decided to tell the story from the beginning, but omit all mentions of how Roderich had made him feel.  
"So there I was, walking along the beach when I spot this guy having trouble in the water. Naturally I swam out and saved him. He was so grateful that he took me out for a bite to eat, and you know. . . one thing lead to another."  
  
"And are you going to see this man again ?" Francis asked, his blue eyes bright with hope and enthusiasm.  
  
"No, he's gone back to Austria." Gilbert answered through gritted teeth, partly out of loathing for the entire situation, but mostly out of frustration with Francis' incessant badgering. Francis' obsession with his love life was sickening, couldn't he focus on his own ? It's not as if it was lacking in excitement.  
  
Francis sighed, giving Gilbert a sympathetic smile. "How tragic, you're a modern day Odysseus and Penelope."  
  
"Who ? You better not be putting me in the role of the chick. And never mind that, it was just a Summer thing, it's not like I care." Gilbert grumbled, crossing his arms like a spoiled child. We're they really doing this, were his friends really putting him on the spot like this ? He should just bring up one of Francis' many failed relationships before they started singing 'Gilbert and Roderich sitting in a tree.' Come to think of it, he hadn't told them his mystery man's name, but it was probably best that he didn't. Giving him a name would just legitimize this whole thing in their minds.  
  
"Hey Gil, did you get his address, maybe you could be penpals ?" Antonio asked with such wide eyes and a large smile, that Gilbert couldn't be certain if he was teasing or if he was just that hopelessly optimistic. He reckoned that it was probably a bit of both.  
Worn out by his friends behaviour, Gilbert skulked off back towards class without even granting the men a simple goodbye, wondering why the hell he continued to be friends with such people.

\---  
  
Alfred, Vash, and Natalya were eating lunch and complaining about teachers who insisted on assigning essays on the first day of the school year when Elizabeta showed up with Roderich in tow. Elizabeta took a seat next to Vash, while Roderich sat flanked by Alfred and Natalya, who then preceded to ask him all sorts of "getting to know you" questions. The four friends of made up 'The Pink Ladies.' An odd choice for a group that was half male, but they had dubbed themselves after the cocktail, a drink which they all shared a mutual love for. This however, didn't explain the matching pink embroidered jackets.  
  
"Who's the stray ?" Vash mumbled, only loud enough for Elizabeta to hear.  
  
"Roderich Edelstein, he just moved here from Austria." Elizabeta's expression turned stern as she raised he finger towards him, "I'm warning you Vash, be nice to him. We both know that it's no fun to be the new kid"  
  
Vash paid her warning no heed, he was still entirely focused on the first half of her answer. "Austrian hmm, I suppose this means I can't curse at you all in German anymore without being caught."  
  
Elizabeta glared at him, trying to remember when Vash last spoke the language around her. Unable to recall any instances, she decided that he was just being his usual snarky self. She turned away from him and faced Roderich, listening in on his conversation with Alfred and Natalya.  
  
"My Summer ? It was wonderful thank you, I spent the majority of it at the beach."  
  
"I was the same when I first moved from Hungary. Coming from a landlocked country the beach was such a novelty, don't you think ?" Elizabeta interjected. Vash and Natalya, from Switzerland and Belarus respectively; both of which were also landlocked countries, nodded in agreement. They could all remember when they first moved to Rydell and found themselves captivated by the sea. Except Alfred of course, he'd been born in Rydell and in his group he was the only natural born citizen.  
Roderich reddened in embarrassment, after his first visit to the beach he no longer felt awed by it's beauty. In truth he felt apathetic towards the seaside as the thought of crabs creeping through the sand left him feeling uneasy.  
  
"You're blushing, something you want to share with us ?" Natalya asked. Roderich felt a little intimated, and bit ashamed of that feeling. Natalya had a serious face, with eyes that seemed to stare into his soul, but in their brief conversation she had been distant but kind enough.  
  
"Um well, I don't care for the beach much. I only continued going in order to meet up with . . . he's, well he's . . ." Roderich struggled to find the right words to define Gilbert, he wasn't a boyfriend, he was more than just a friend, lover sounded far to vulgar.  
  
"Why don't you just tell us what happened." Vash groaned, growing impatient.  
  
"The first time I went to the beach I met a man. At first I thought him a show off, but after we chatted I saw a softer side to him, and I grew to care about him very much. " Roderich smiled as he spoke of happier times, but his eyes seemed pained. "But then I was set to go back to Austria and we parted ways."  
Alfred and Elizabeta wore sympathetic frowns, Natalya's face was unreadable, and Vash didn't really seem to care.  
  
"Awh cheer up. Now that you're staying maybe you'll see him again." Alfred smiled hopefully. "Say, what was this guy's name anyway ?"

"Gilbert Beilschmidt."  
  
A wicked smile grew across Vash's face. "You know what Roderich, something tells me you'll meet this man again."


	2. Chapter 2

The sidelines were packed with excited students, clapping as the cheerleaders made their way onto the field. Roderich had come at the urging of Elizabeta, though she didn't really need to insist, he was interested in seeing a game of American football up close for the first time. He'd only ever seen snippets of the sport in movies and was actually excited to see how it all worked.  
  
He watched as the women threw their pom poms in the air, shouting words of encouragement for the footballers. Natayla was amongst them, looking withdrawn and not at all pepped like her teammates. Elizabeta had told Roderich that back in Belarus Natalya had been an acrobat and gymnast, but here in Rydell the closest thing she could find to her previous hobbies were the flips and jumps of cheerleading. Based on her lack of interest Roderich gathered that the routine was far below her skill level. He pitied her really, it was no wonder that she always seemed so bored. Her passion had been taken away from her, or rather her from it.  
  
Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he looked away from Natalya and towards the bench of football players. One of his peers was looking at him, a blond, blue eyed man with the wildest, most gravity defying hair he'd ever seen. Though he still had feelings for Gilbert, feelings that were best forgotten given the improbability of anything happening, he had to admit to himself that the man staring at him was incredibly attractive.  
The man's crooked smirk was oddly charming, and when he smiled at him Roderich could feel his cheeks heat up.  
The player leaned forward in his seat, allowing Roderich to crane his neck just enough to catch a glimpse of the name printed on the back of his jersey; Køhler. He'd have to commit that to memory.  

\---  
  
Antonio and Gilbert sat perched on the hood of a stranger's car in the school car park, smoking the very last of their cigarettes as they waited for Francis. The noises coming for the nearby football field indicated that the game had just begun, leaving Gilbert sorely tempted to head on into the stands without Francis, but he persevered as the Frenchman wasn't one to be late without good reason, he'd give him until he reached the butt of his cigarette until they departed without him.  
  
"So what do you think is keeping him ?" he asked, turning to face Antonio who seemed thoroughly unfazed by the delay. It always astounded him how Antonio's mood rarely seemed to drop, no matter the situation.  
  
Antonio paused a moment before answering, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow, the Summer was over now, but it seemed as though it wasn't quite ready to leave them just yet. "I think he said that he had to meet a man."  
  
Gilbert huffed and got to his feet. It was pretty low of Francis to stand them up for a date, he could have at least called. Whoever this man was, he better be pretty damn special to make them late for the opening game of the new school year.  
Gilbert and Antonio began walking towards the field, only to be halted by the deafening, clanking sounds of an engine badly in need of a mechanic. Driving towards them in beaten up car that was probably white beneath the layers of grease and grime, was Francis, his head held high as though he were driving a Rolls Royce, not a death trap fit for the junkyard. Eyeing the vehicle closely, Gilbert felt positive that the car probably had been dragged from such a place.  
  
"Well what do you think ?" Francis said, now standing by the bonnet, proudly admiring his new purchase.  
  
"You're late is what I think." Gilbert said dryly, tapping his foot like a disapproving parent. "Antonio said you were meeting up with some guy, so where did this piece of scrap come from ?"  
  
"I said that I had to see a man about a car." Francis laughed. "You really should listen more closely Antonio."  
  
Gilbert stepped forward and gave the front wheels a little kick. They tyres were deflated and it was a wonder that Francis hadn't veered off into a ditch. The windscreen was cracked, the body was dented, surely Francis was going to sell the car for parts ?  
  
"Careful Gil." Francis exclaimed, feeling protective of the vehicle. "We're going to have to put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into fixing Greased Lightning, and I'd prefer if you didn't add to the workload."  
  
"Greased Lightning ?" Gilbert gaped at him, too shocked by the name to notice that Francis expected him to help make the clunker road worthy. Even if he had, his protests would have been drowned out by the noise of a revving engine.  
  
Ceasing their squabble and turning their heads, they saw Ivan Braginsky, leader of The Scorpions, driving towards them in his 'Hell's Chariot'. He parked right next to Greased Lightning, no doubt to compare his sleek and shining car with Francis' death trap.  
  
Looking up at the friends, Ivan gave them what Gilbert thought was the most lying of smiles. "Well it certainly has charm. Don't you agree boys ?" Ivan asked, casting his head backwards to a group of three eastern European cousins in the back seat. None of whom really seemed like gang members, nor did they seem comfortable to be there.  
The trio only nodded, and no one could blame them really, Ivan had a way of terrifying everyone around him with even the kindest of gestures. Gilbert had felt far too intimidated to argue, a felling which he'd never admit to, not even to himself. But he needn't have felt like a coward, Francis and Antonio had been equally tight lipped.  
Reversing his car slowly, Ivan gave them a polite wave and drove out of sight.  
  
Vash Zwingli was in a foul humour as he hurried through the carpark, traffic had been a nightmare and had made him late for the game. But spotting Ivan Braginsky taunting Gilbert Beilschmidt and company had provided him with the perfect opportunity, effectively elevating his mood.

\---  
  
"I appreciate that you have a surprise for me, but I'd much prefer if we could stay and watch the game." Roderich lamented as he pried Vash's hand from his wrist. He was grateful that Vash finally seemed welcoming, but the manhandling was unnecessary.  
  
Vash sighed and grasped Roderich's hand again. With a pleading look, and his voice lowered to almost a whisper, he guaranteed it would be worth it. "There will be more games, but I promise you that what I'm about to show you is something you'll never forget."  
  
Elizabeta, Natalya, and Alfred who had been trailing behind them all felt puzzled, Vash seemed almost desperate for Roderich to come along. He wasn't a man to beg, so what exactly was he playing at ?  
Roderich didn't know what to think either, when he first met Vash, he had seemed perpetually irritated at him and now he seemed to need him for something.  
But Vash's assurance that he'd never forget what he'd see was enticing, even if it could be interpreted as menacing. Mulling it over, he decided that Vash's promise seemed interesting enough for him to go along with.  
  
After being pulled mercilessly through the carpark, Roderich was pushed forward into a group of tense seeming men. Each man wore a leather jacket adorned with a patch on the back, reading "T - Birds,"  
The first man he saw was a blond, the second was a brunet, but the third had white hair the likes of which he'd only ever seen on one man before. And when their eyes met Roderich gasped, there were those haematic eyes that had captivated him all Summer.  
  
"Gilbert ?" he asked, his voice shaking out shock. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure he wasn't some vision that manifested after Vash's hold on his wrist cut off his circulation. But he restrained himself, all he'd need was for Gilbert to answer and confirm it was really him.  
  
"Roderich ? What are you - I mean you were supposed to go back to Austria and -" Gilbert paused, acutely aware that his friends were witnessing an emotional moment. Only days ago Francis had been taunting him about his mystery man, and now here he was about to expose his true feelings. He couldn't act all lovey dovey in front of his friends, they'd never let him live it down. "So you stayed ? Couldn't get enough of me I suppose."  
Gilbert chuckled, flashing his teeth. Unlike the smiles from their shared Summer -the ones that made Roderich's heart flutter and leap- this grin was full of arrogance and didn't at all suit the man Roderich had come to know.  
  
"Is something the matter Gilbert, you don't seem quite yourself ?" Roderich asked, knitting his brow in confusion. The man in front of him seemed cocky and rude - just like when they had first met at the beach. But back then Gilbert had quickly learned that his arrogance would get him nowhere and toned it down and acted genuine. So why had he reverted ?  
  
"I'm 100% me, don't tell me you've decided to stay in Rydell all for me and now you've had a change of heart ? But I suppose it can't be helped, now that were at school, you'd have to compete with the many others vying for my attention." Gilbert cackled. When he looked back towards his friends he had expected to see them laughing, but instead he found them regarding him with contempt.  
  
The only sounds that filled the carpark in that brief and tense moment in which Roderich struggled to think of a retort were the tuts coming from Gilbert's blond friend, and the furious mutterings that came from under Elizabeta's breath. Roderich didn't know how to respond, because what was one supposed to say to counter such egotistical drivel ? With much less decorum than he had expected of himself, he exploded. "You are absolutely vile Gilbert. You acted so sweet during the Summer, but I see now that you're nothing but a conceited moron, and I can't believe that I conned myself into thinking that you were a decent human being."

\---  
  
Enraged at Gilbert, and a bit at himself for snapping, he stormed off to behind the school gym. His hands shaking, he leaned against the wall and slumped to the ground. But he refused to cry, he would not spare a tear for the man that humiliated him.  
He had acted like a romantic fool telling Elizabeta and her friends all about his wonderful Summer, when in reality he'd been played.  
Gilbert was not kind and energetic; he was manipulative and vain. Gilbert had probably run home everyday and regaled his friends with the story of the Austrian tourist whom he had wrapped around his little finger, and they were probably all laughing at him now.  
Oh how had he let himself be so naïve ? He should just go home and beg his parents to return to Vienna lest he suffer any more embarrassment.  
  
Looking up he saw a hand outstretched towards him, Elizabeta. After the shock of learning Gilbert's true character it was a relief to see that he'd not misjudged her, she was just caring as he first believed "Are you ok pet ?"  
  
"Perfectly fine, just feeling a little silly. And I assure you, I don't usually lose my cool like that." He replied, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. And after his shame ultimately diminished, he would be fine. Gilbert had proved himself to be nothing more than a pompous brute, so he refused to spare him another thought. The stresses of the day were nothing that couldn't be relieved with a little therapy in front of the piano.  
  
Elizabeta pursed her lips and rocked on her heels, pondering something. "You've had a rough day Roderich, so I was wondering if you'd like to join the rest of us for a sleepover ? It's at my house so you won't have to travel far."  
  
A mixed sex sleepover, would that be allowed ? But given his inclinations, did it really matter ? And after a day like today, he felt like he should take all the real friends he could get. "Um, I suppose that could be fun . . .all right."  
  
"Wonderful !" Elizabeta smiled, wrapping her arm around Roderich's shoulder. "We're going to have to introduce you to our signature 'Pink Lady' cocktail, and of course we'll give you license to bitch about Gilbert all night long if you want. Or maybe we could pierce your ears."  
  
Perhaps this was a bad idea.


	3. Chapter 3

At the sleepover Roderich had learned a number of things, the first being that his new friends had always known exactly what kind of man Gilbert was, the second was that 'Pink Ladie's' were a foul drink that contained egg whites of all things.  
  
When Elizabeta and Natalya left the room, sneaking downstairs to fetch a bottle of champagne in hopes that it would be more to Roderich's taste, Alfred decided he needed to more about Roderich and Gilbert's relationship. Gilbert's ego was legendary, and based on Roderich's earlier reactions, it seemed to be the first time he'd ever seen it. So how had Gilbert behaved all Summer ?  
"Gilbert isn't exactly the nicest guy, so what was he like around you ?" He asked scooching next to Roderich on the bed, showing no concern for his feelings, or for his personal space.  
  
Before Roderich could prepare a reply, Vash answered for him. "What's there to tell ? Gilbert played nice, but in the end he just fucked and ran. It's how the story always goes." There was a bitterness to Vash's voice, giving all present a sense that he was a veteran of heartbreak. But there was no sympathy from Roderich, Vash had jumped to conclusions and now Roderich was far too concerned with clearing up misconceptions to ease Vash's old wounds.

"That is most certainly not how our story went." Roderich snapped back. Remaining calm was something he was finding difficult since moving to Rydell, what with Vash so antagonistic and making assumptions, and Gilbert revealing his true self, was it any wonder that he lost his composure ? Voice lowered to a more polite level, he narrowed his eyes at Vash. "That brief. . . thing with Gilbert was completely chaste thank you very much." Even if that weren't true, did Vash really expect him to recount his sexual exploits ? He was continually astounded by what passed for polite conversation in Rydell.  
"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom." He needed respite from all the confrontation, it wasn't that he couldn't hold his own against Vash - he felt certain he could. It was just that arguing stressed him out, made him lose the ability to hold his tongue, and Vash relished it. The man was incorrigible, if Roderich fought back he only served to encourage him, and if he stayed silent he gave Vash all the power.  
  
With Natalya and Elizabeta off raiding the liquor cabinet, Roderich hiding in the toilet, Vash was bored.  
Sure he had Alfred, but he was no fun at all. Alfred was proud, not with the type of overcompensating arrogance that Gilbert possessed, but just too damn sure of himself to ever let anything Vash said affect him. It was impossible to get a rise out of him, Alfred would always respond to snide remarks with a laugh and a "C'mon Vash, we both know that's not true."  
Gilbert would respond similarly to Vash's taunts - dismissive and cocky. But unlike Alfred there was always that glint of uncertainty in his eyes that most people failed to catch. It amused him to no end that Roderich hadn't noticed, you would think that someone who had spent an entire Summer falling madly in 'love' with the man would have picked up on the act.  
Roderich himself was a different story all together, when Vash goaded him it led to disgust instead of plain 'ol refutation. That's what intrigued him so. Surely that prim and proper attitude was all a mask ?  
  
Desperate for entertainment, Vash wandered in circles around Elizabeta's room, searching for anything that might hold his attention for at least a little while. After a moment or two his eyes fixed themselves to a box marked 'wigs' sitting atop Elizabeta's wardrobe. Opening it up he found that there was only one wig, a long blonde one. It didn't quite fit with what he had in mind, but he could make do.  
Getting to his knees, he parked himself in front of Elizabeta's vanity table and fixed the wig firmly to his head with the assistance of a few dozen hair pins. Taking a large dollop of gel, he carefully styled a cowlick into the hair.  
  
Alfred crawled forward on the bed in order to get a closer look at whatever Vash was up to. He couldn't help but snigger at how ridiculous he looked, blond may have been Vash's natural colour, but flowing curls were a new look for him. "Liza will freak when she sees you, you know."  
  
Vash didn't respond, but merely smirked as he drew a tiny black dot on his chin with eyeliner.  
  
"Oh my god, you're trying to -" Alfred began, but was cut off with a shush.  
  
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Vash crossed his ankles beneath him and folded his hands in his lap. With those mannerisms and that appearance, he looked more like a grammar school teacher than a student. Clearing his throat, he let out a shrill song.  
"Look at me I'm Roddy E, lousy with virginity. Won't go to bed 'til I'm legally wed -"  
  
"Is that supposed to be an imitation of me ? Roderich asked from the doorway, staring at Vash with a look of utter contempt. From behind him charged Elizabeta, her finger pointed as she muttered something in what Vash guessed was Hungarian.  
  
Removing the wig and wiping the 'mole' from his chin, Vash glanced out the window to where an engine could be heard. Without once turning back to Elizabeta - because he knew that an angry Elizabeta was a dangerous Elizabeta -, he carefully stepped out onto the windowsill, and began the risky climb down the trellis, navigating himself around the bed of tulips once he had made a safe landing.  
  
"Where are you going ? I'm not through with you." Elizabeta called after him, peering out the window to see Vash make his way towards a car parked in the shadows. "We're not through with this conversation Vash, next time we meet there'll be trouble."

\---  
  
The worn backseat of Francis' car was hardly the place for this, springs poked them at every movement , and the mysterious stains that peppered the ancient fabric spoiled the mood. But their homes weren't viable options, and neither of them expected any motel owner to rent a room to two teenage boys. So they'd just have to make do with a foul smelling death trap.  
  
Vash pushed Francis from his position above him, pulling away from his kiss, "Can't you hurry it up ?"  
  
Choosing to take Vash's demand as an expression of need, not as a desire to get things over with, he carefully stepped out over the gearstick and retrieved a condom from the glove compartment. "Skipping foreplay ? How impatient Vash. Though I can't say I blame you, the sooner you begin writhing beneath me the better right?"  
  
Vash's fingernails dug into his palms as he gritted his teeth in annoyance. Honestly, what was with this town and it's wide selection of egotistical men ? "If you continue to talk like that I'm going to leave."  
  
"Fine fine, if you don't want to experience romance that's your loss and -" Francis looked down at his hands and his expression darkened. "Ooops"  
  
"Ooops ?" Vash repeated, pushing himself up on his elbows. "That's not something you should say in a situation like this."  
  
Feeling tense and a little worried for the future of his night, Francis ran his hands through his groomed blond hair. "Um well my fingernail sliced through the latex and I don't have a spare."  
  
Vash closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Trust Francis to let something as silly as nail care ruin what could have been a decent evening. But he had gone to the trouble of climbing from a second story window, so might as well make the most of the opportunity. "I suppose we can go without, just this once."

\---  
  
The car cleansed of the night's earlier activities, Francis now found himself in the school carpark along with Antonio and Gilbert. And expectedly, Gilbert's behaviour was the only topic of conversation.  
  
"Look I get it, I fucked up big time, you don't have to keep reminding me." Gilbert grumbled, sinking back into the passenger seat of Francis' new car. He was already feeling terrible about upsetting Roderich, his friends didn't have to keep interrogating him. "Can't you drop it already ?"  
  
"Maybe we'll drop the topic when you tell us why you acted so callous." Francis advised. There was a hint of frustration in his voice, but mostly he just sounded eager for Gilbert to bare his soul. With a sigh he gently laid a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "I get it Gil, these feelings are new and strange, but they're natural."  
  
"You sound like a parent trying to teach me about the birds and the bees." Gilbert cringed, recoiling from Francis' touch.

Clambering out of the back of the car, Antonio wedged himself between the two front seats. "He has a point Gil, you've never been good with the emotional stuff. And it's not just Roderich you're hurting. This thing you do where you push people away has to stop, you're heading down a self destructive path. I know it's hard to open up to people, but sometimes you just have to take that leap of faith."  
  
Francis and Gilbert sat slack-jawed and wide eyed, regarding Antonio with a look of shock and awe. While they both had known that there were brains behind that bubbly outer shell, neither man was expecting Antonio to actually have good advice when it came to matters of the heart.  
  
Antonio chuckled to himself, he was Spanish for god's sake, was in any wonder that he knew a thing or two about passion ?


	4. Chapter 4

The trio were in Francis' garage, a remarkably clean room that provided a stark contrast to Greased Lightning. Which as the name suggested, was coated in a film of dust and oil. Gilbert stood looking down into the opened car bonnet, pretending to know what he was staring at. He could identify the engine sure enough, but the pipes and cables were all foreign to him.  
Antonio took a look over Gilbert's shoulder, noting that Gilbert hadn't touched a thing. Typical of him really, all talk no action.  
  
"You don't have the skills to get this car running smoothly," Antonio teased, gently pushing past Gilbert and getting a look for himself. Without a word he set his head down and outstretched his hand toward Francis, motioning for a flashlight.  
Francis passed the light along, and shared a look of confusion with Gilbert, silently asking if he was aware of Antonio's mechanical abilities.  
  
Gilbert retreated to the driver's seat and put his feet up on the dashboard, content to let Antonio to do all the work. "Fine you can do the technical side of it, but I'm picking the paint. How cool will this baby look with lightning bolt decals ?"

Stumped for the second time in under a minute, Francis sat down beside Gilbert. "Why are you suddenly so positive about our endeavour, if I recall correctly you called this 'a piece of scrap'," Francis leaned over Gilbert, close enough for the him to get a whiff of his Givency cologne. "Or are you attempting to focus your attention away from that pretty little Austrian ?"  
  
Gilbert waved his hands in exasperation. "Hardly, I just want to show up Braginsky that's all. Who the hell does he think he is, mocking us ?"  
  
"One minute it's junk, next it's your baby. You seem to like changing your feelings towards things, don't you Gilbert ? People included."  
  
Gilbert held his tongue - quite a feat for him, because there just wasn't any point to arguing with Francis who had already decided that he was hopelessly in love with Roderich and suffering from a major case of denial. At this point he was certain that he could run off to Canada and marry a Mountie and Francis would still insist that Roderich was his soulmate.  
  
Antonio appeared at the side of the car, his olive skin streaked with engine oil. "Ok Gil, can you start it up ?"  
  
Welcoming any reason to avoid Francis' ramblings about his romance, or more accurately -his lack of it, Gilbert did as was asked of him and turned the key. Instead of the sputters and coughs that usually came from the engine, it now gave off a steady rhythm.  
Francis' eyes widened, not expecting Antonio to have solved their engine trouble on the first try, but nevertheless he was grateful, gleefully throwing an arm around him. "This calls for celebratory drinks."  
  
Antonio looked horrified. "It's 2pm on a Sunday."  
  
"I meant milkshakes at Frosty's of course."

\---  
  
Ivan Braginsky drove erratically, narrowly avoiding colliding with pedestrians as he turned the corner at Frosty's diner. He sped past Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert, affixing a smile to his face as he waved to them politely. Gilbert who was usually the one to get riled up about Ivan's antics, paid him no attention.  
While Francis shook his head and scolded his irresponsible driving, Gilbert's mind was elsewhere, thinking of reconciliation with Roderich. He knew that his complicated relationship with Roderich was most likely broken beyond repair, but it never hurt to try. Maybe there was a not so grand gesture he could attempt, or maybe Roderich would be to the type to fall into his arms with some tender words.  
  
"You haven't been listening to me at all have you ?"  
  
"Hmmm ?"  
  
"So you don't have an opinion on whether or not we should race Ivan ? Goodness Gilbert, you're a changed man since you've met Roderich."  
  
"Roderich, Roderich Roderich." Gilbert fumed, pushing open the door to the diner. "I swear to God, if I hear one more thing about . . . Roderich." Gilbert stopped in his tracks. Speak of the devil. There he was, sitting at the counter picking at a basket of fries and smiling as he spoke with Mathias Køhler.  
Why on Earth was he with that meathead ? Roderich was smart, witty, and refined, and Mathias was none of those wonderful things.  
Was this jealousy, he thought. No it couldn't be, he could have anyone he wanted, right ?  
  
He led Francis and Antonio to a booth, and sat down with his back to Roderich. Something he immediately regretted. Fighting the urge to turn his head and stare, he read the menu with keen interest.  
Luckily his friends didn't think it odd that he would read something he should have memorized after years of faithful patronage, and they went about ordering their drinks.  
While they chatted amicably with the waitress, Gilbert took the opportunity to make a quick glance back towards Roderich.  
Roderich was out of his chair, strolling towards the jukebox with coins in hand, and Gilbert noted that Mathias was staring after him as he walked.  
  
Explaining that something one of the flyers on the wall caught his eye, he rose from the booth and made his way over to the jukebox where the noticeboard was so conventionally located.  
Playing it cool, he feigned interest in the various advertisements. Baby sitter for hire - fascinating. Live music here at Frosty's in two days time - how delightful. A poster for National Bandstands upcoming filming at Rydell High gym - shit he'd almost forgotten about that. The girls had been buzzing about it all Summer, except now that the school year had begun the excitement had died down. But that would no doubt change as the date grew closer.  
Then it hit him that he'd probably need a date for the dance. He briefly considered asking Roderich, but perhaps he should get back into his good graces first. But if his new-found friendship with Mathias was anything to go by, he'd already have his date.  
  
Feeling as though he'd done enough browsing, he casually glanced over Roderich shoulder and pointed at the screen, "Great song."  
  
"Not a great selection though." Roderich never raised his head as he spoke, but the fact that he was speaking at all was a good sign in Gilbert's eyes.  
  
"Listen I uh -" Gilbert ran his sweaty palms along the sides of his jeans. Why did saying sorry make him feel so nervous, so vulnerable. Why couldn't he just be honest with Roderich and himself for a change?  
Sensing Roderich's growing impatience, he sped things up. "I suppose I just wanted to say sorry for how I acted."  
  
There was a brief silence from Roderich, who clearly expected reasoning's along with apologies. With a sigh he turned away from the jukebox in order to confront Gilbert. "Sorry is all well and good but it doesn't explain your actions."  
  
"The guys were there, and I didn't want to look like a sappy -" Roderich held his hands up, signalling for Gilbert to stop. "I've heard enough thank you. Now excuse me but I was in the middle of lunch."  
  
Before Roderich had a chance to return to his table, Gilbert took a step in front of him. "Just answer me this, what the hell do you see in Køhler ? He's just some jock."  
  
"Well he hasn't put his reputation ahead of me. And so what if he's good at throwing a football, at least he has a passion. What are you doing with your life Gilbert ? While Gilbert was left dumbstruck, Roderich tapped the buttons of the jukebox and walked away as the music played on.

\---  
  
He wished he could say that he joined the team for his own enjoyment, not because he felt he had something to prove to Roderich, but that would be a barefaced lie. However it was a lie he intended on sticking to.  
The coach assumed that he was joking when he first approached him the locker room, but who could blame him, after all Gilbert was more inclined to sit on the benches than he was to step onto the field.  
But coach Ludwig eventually gave into Gilbert's pleas, remembering that on the rare occasions when he would exert himself in gym class, he had shown great strategic skill on the basketball court. Unfortunately he wasn't a team player and he didn't have much of an aim, (curse his terrible eyesight) which ruled out plenty of sports  
  
The coach suggested wrestling which would have been a great way to work out his frustrations, but after being pinned down one too many times Gilbert reacted with a punch to his attackers nose.  
In the end the coach suggested track, because how could Gilbert mess up running ?

  
Although he hadn't exactly joined the team with the noblest of intentions, Gilbert actually enjoyed his first foray into athleticism, finding that he was much faster than the majority of the other runners, even with tiny white shorts rubbing him the wrong way.  
He could feel his calf muscles burning as he ran, and strangely enough he didn't care, because he loved the competition, and he loved watching the scenery meld into a blur as he picked up speed.  
  
And watching the scenery pass him by is precisely what he was doing when he noticed Roderich in the stands, laughing and joking with Mathias.  
A sense of rivalry rising within him, he showed off by leaping over hurdles - and as it turned out, he was good at that too. At least he would have been if he hadn't been continually peering over his shoulder to check that Roderich was looking and that he was suitably impressed.  
He took a particularity nasty fall over the third hurdle, and by the time he picked himself up off off the track Roderich was beside him, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side, and Gilbert couldn't be sure if he'd prefer that he laugh at him, rather than give him such a pitying look.  
  
"Are you alright ?" Roderich asked, picking gravel from Gilbert's t-shirt. There was no reply from Gilbert, just a shrug as brushed himself clean.  
  
"After the way you've behaved towards me, the least you could do is answer me when I speak to you." Roderich frowned. Really, must Gilbert act like a petulant little boy ?  
  
"The least I could do ? I said I was sorry."  
  
"Oh now that he's offended he has something to say." Roderich teased, the corners of his mouth upturning.  
  
"Well like I said, I really am sorry." Gilbert went quiet then, his mind busy with ways to offhandedly bring up Mathias in conversation. But it was all down to tone, he decided. If he spoke with a smile he'd seem more like a curious friend than a jealous ex. "So what's with you and Mathias, is he taking you to Frosty's tomorrow ?"  
  
Roderich snorted, actually snorted. "We're just friends." Gilbert didn't see what was so funny, both times he'd seen the pair together they'd seemed pretty close. What else was he supposed to think ?  
  
"Well if you don't have a date then I'll take you."  
  
"Oh will you now ?" The corners of Roderich's eyes crinkled as he did his best to hide his smile.  
  
"Yeah, I'll pick you up at eight."

\---  
  
When Gilbert pulled up with Roderich outside Frosty's in his parents car, he was surprised to find how busy the diner was. He figured that the promise of live music would draw a bit of a crowd, but given that it was a Tuesday he hadn't expected that all his friends would show up too.  
Tables and chairs had been set to the side, creating a dance space which half the high school seemed to be occupying, their friends amongst them.  
Before they allowed themselves to be noticed, Gilbert took Roderich by the hand and led him to a table and hid their faces behind a wall of menus.  
  
"Just wanted to give us some privacy" Gilbert explained, observing Roderich's rather confused expression. He then beckoned the waitress over, a chipper young woman named Michelle, whose long brown hair tickled when she leaned over him to take his order. Burgers and milkshakes they decided.  
  
"Try it." Gilbert insisted, pushing a fry towards Roderich's mouth.  
  
"Absolutely not, it's disgusting." Roderich replied, doing his level best to hide his amusement.  
  
Gilbert scoffed at that, Roderich really ought to try being more adventurous. "It's not disgusting, fries dipped in a milkshake is a culinary masterpiece."  
  
Suddenly the barrier of menus was pulled apart, and between them appeared Francis. "Well don't you two look cute." Vash strolled up behind Francis, his bottom lip slightly bruised, and Roderich couldn't help but wonder if Elizabeta had finally gotten a chance to finish that conversation. But when Francis snaked an arm around Vash's waist - which was promptly pried away - Roderich felt certain that the truth was far more lewd.  
  
"Could say the same to you." Gilbert sneered as Francis pushed a second table into his own, and as Vash called Natalya, Alfred, Elizabeta, and Antonio over to join them. Great, that's just what he wanted, a group date. Patching things up with Roderich was sure to go smoothly with a dozen eyes looking on. Thankfully Roderich didn't seem to mind the intrusions and instead chatted amicably with Elizabeta.  
  
"Anyone got any change, I'm starving here." Alfred groaned, stretching his open palm towards Natalya.  
  
"Ask Elizabeta, she'll be rolling in it soon enough."  
  
"I only said that I was thinking about it, and it's not that profitable." Elizabeta pinched the bridge of her nose, honestly her decision was hard enough without Natalya bringing it up in conversation. Noting that Roderich was staring at her, she quickly did her best to explain. "I've been thinking about dropping out and enrolling in beauty school. Now he -" she said, glaring at Alfred, "seems to think that I'll foot the bill for everything."  
  
Roderich nodded in understanding, but if he were to be completely honest, he'd have to tell her that he found her plans absolutely ridiculous. But he hardly knew Elizabeta, despite how supportive she'd been, and despite what a great friend she was quickly becoming, they just didn't have enough familiarity to start giving each other advice regarding life changing decisions.  
  
As if suddenly remembering that he was in fact on a date, Roderich turned away from Elizabeta and refocused his attention on Gilbert. "I was wondering if you'd like to come over for tea this Sunday."  
  
The group fell silent, hanging on Gilbert's every utterance of 'um'. Eventually his shock subsided enough for him to formulate a reply. "I don't like tea."  
  
Perhaps to ease the awkwardness of the situation, but most likely to because he found his own thoughts to be more interesting, Alfred began his own line of conversation. "So have you all got dates for the National Bandstand event."  
  
There was a collective shaking of heads from all bar Roderich, who simply mouthed a confused 'what' towards Elizabeta.  
  
"It's a televised dance competition," Elizabeta began, the smile on her face clearly conveying her excitement. "and Rydell High was chosen as one of the filming locations. I'm surprised you haven't heard, it's all anyone could talk about all Summer."  
  
"Well he was otherwise occupied all Summer." Vash teased, winking at Roderich and earning himself a look of derision in return.  
  
With that said, the group returned to casual conversation, chatting about clothing for the dance and the latest music, until the diner began to empty, leaving only Roderich, Gilbert, Elizabeta, Francis, and Vash.  
  
"I must admit, I'm a little worried about this dance." Roderich confessed. "Do you dance completely different steps here in America ?" Roderich knew that he didn't have two left feet, by his own judgement he was a pretty good dancer, but still, nerves weren't always rational.  
  
Vash swung around in his chair, coming face to face with Roderich. "Oh I wouldn't worry about it. Someone such as yourself has probably attended countless grand balls in his lifetime, mastered all the waltzes and tangos. Tell me, am I wrong ?"  
  
Ok that was enough, Gilbert thought as he rose from his seat, bringing his glass down to the table with a bang. He hadn't a clue what was wrong with Vash, but for some reason he was acting more sour than usual. "You ready to leave Roderich ? I'll drive you home."  
There was a grateful smile from Roderich as he took Gilbert up on his offer, glad to leave the hostile environment.  
  
Francis gave them a friendly wave as they walked out the door together, happy to see Gilbert finally getting his act together and treating Roderich well. However that happiness was short lived as he soon realized that they had left without paying their bill. Turning on the charms, he batted his eyelashes, "Vash be a dear and help me cover this ?"

Elizabeta reclined in her seat, looking on as Vash centred his gaze on Francis, refusing to blink until he understood that there wasn't a hope in hell that he'd help pay. What was going on with them anyway ? Francis was acting more flirtatious than usual, was that just Francis being Francis or was there something more to it ?  
  
Francis threw his hands in the air in defeat, Vash had made up his mind there would be no getting through to him. "What ever is the matter ? You're especially cankerous this evening."  
  
Vash cast his eyes down to the table and took a breath. "Francis, don't start. I really don't want to hear it."  
  
"Start ? At this point I'd prefer to finish things." Francis murmured. Not that there was anything to finish really, they weren't a couple, at least not in the traditional sense.  
  
Without a word, Vash grabbed Roderich's unfinished milkshake and dumped the contents on Francis' lap, unfortunately an added side effect of his aggression was that he splattered dollops of the strawberry liquid on Elizabeta's skirt.  
Feeling a little guilty towards Elizabeta, and only Elizabeta, he passed her some napkins before storming out the diner, Francis following behind.  
  
Elizabeta didn't have the energy to argue with Vash, normally she would have wrung his neck for that behaviour, but today she just wasn't up to it. She could play nice with the others, talk about trivial things like dances, but in reality she felt torn in two. She had a tough decision to make, and it being brought up in conversation didn't help matters.  
On one hand she really did want to enroll in beauty school, but she knew it was a risk, she could end up hating it or failing.  
  
"Are you alright ?" As if the voice had snapped her out of a trance, Elizabeta looked up to see the waitress hovering over her, handing her a dish towel. "If your worried about the skirt, I'm sure it can be dry cleaned."  
  
"It's not the skirt," Elizabeta sighed, dabbing at her clothing with the towel. "I just have a lot to think about."  
  
The plates and cutlery balanced precariously in the left hand, the waitress gave Elizabeta a pat on the shoulder with the left. "I'll leave you to it then. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."  
  
The waitress dimmed the lights when she left, leaving Elizabeta in the dark with the company of her own thoughts. She was perfectly content to sit alone for a bit and do nothing but run through various scenarios in her head, but the heaven's had other ideas.  
A flash of twinkling orange lights appeared on the ceiling, and if she wasn't mistaken, they were accompanied by harps. The lights grew brighter and Elizabeta had to shield her watering eyes to spare her sight.  
The blinding lights died away, and blinking back tears she opened her eyes to see an angel. Well at least she thought he was an angel. He had the wings, the halo, and he was even dressed in a toga. But the angels in Italian frescos never had shaggy hair or thick eyebrows like the man standing before her.  
  
"Who are you ?" she asked, her voice strong despite the fear she felt. She kept her eyes fixed firmly to him, but her hands were scouring her surroundings, searching for a weapon to defend herself with should it come to that.  
  
"I'm your guardian angel." He replied, smirking at her disbelief as he took his seat in what was Vash's chair. Hands steepled beneath his chin, he leaned towards her. "Now I understand you're considering leaving school."  
  
"That's right." Elizabeta stiffened, how could he have known that ? She considered herself religious, she believed in God, but an angel sitting in front of her ? That was far-fetched. The way she saw it, there were two possibilities. Either that was really an angel, or more likely; she had gone completely insane.  
  
"Oh good. Let's get down to it shall we ?" Ironically the smile on the angel's face seemed devilish. Perhaps on anyone else it would have seemed charming, but when a divine being descends from the heavens before your eyes, one can't help but feel intimidated. "Now please don't think me rude, I do only have your best interests at heart, but frankly I'm surprised to see you quitting. Didn't you come here after '56 for a better life ?"  
  
Elizabeta remained silent, for talking back to angel seemed downright blasphemous. But mostly she bit her tongue because she didn't quite know how to respond to a comment so forthright. Her friends had all stayed quiet on the matter, supporting her no matter her decision. But an angel being so candid ? She wasn't quite sure if she appreciated the honesty or if she found him a tad confrontational.  
  
The orange lights recommenced, and the angel was soon enveloped by them. "Remember, there are only a few months of school left. I trust you'll make the right choice Elizabeta."

\---  
  
Lately the students had begun flitting about in excitement, their anticipation growing as the date of the filming approached, dance steps the only topic on the their lips. Even Elizabeta's thoughts revolved exclusively around the National Bandstand, her plans to for beauty school put on hold until after graduation. Divine intervention Vash had called it, oh how little he knew.  
Crewmen were swiftly becoming as common in Rydell High as tests and homework, becoming part of the scenery as they loaded their countless cameras and pieces of equipment into the gym.  
  
Navigating their way around boxes of cables and stacks of film that was in the process of being unloaded from tv trucks, Vash and Natalya came face to face with Francis, the very last person the Swiss man wanted to see.  
Without so much as an icy stare, Vash brushed passed him and made his way through the school car park with Natalya following close behind. Maybe with enough indifference towards his existence, Francis would come to see that Vash had no interest in speaking to him ever again.  
  
Francis had to admit, (if only to himself) that he was a tad hurt. Sure Vash was snarky and cold, that he'd always been, but lately he was shorter tempered and ruder, as if constantly on edge. Vash was proving himself to be an enigma, but never matter, codes were usually cracked and broken relationships could be repaired. But in the meantime, Francis had an idea as to who could escort him to the dance.

\---  
  
Wedged together between two parked cars, Natalya and Vash were bemoaning their lack of dates for the biggest event in Rydell High history. Normally they would mind attending a dance alone, their enjoyment was not dependent on their relationship status after all. But a televised dance contest _was_ dependent on having a date, and they couldn't very well strut on their own.  
  
Address book open, Natalya let her finger scroll down the list of names. "You could try calling Ki-"  
  
"Already rang him, he'll be out of town." Vash let his eyes ghost across the carpark, searching for any potential candidates. Occasionally he'd let himself consider a passerby, but he'd always dismiss him as unsuitable. It really shouldn't be this hard, he thought to himself. Hadn't he settled for Francis ?  
  
Just as Natalya began listing off some names, he found himself watching as a black, flame emblazoned car came into view. And as he stared at the driver, he found himself recalling that famous quote, _"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."_

Natalya raised a brow, her expression uncertain, an emotion Vash had never seen her display outwardly before. "Are you sure about this ?"  
  
There were no words necessary for Vash's reply, his leap into Ivan Braginsky's passenger seat was answer enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically Gilbert couldn't have married a Mountie, the first female Mounties didn't graduate until 1975 and Grease is set between 1959-60.  
> I made a brief mention of Gilbert's eyesight as vision problems are common among albinos.  
> '56 is in reference to The Hungarian Revolution of 1956, after which around 40,000 Hungarians emigrated to the U.S.A


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigitte - Monaco

Crossing the threshold to the Rydell High gym, Vash clung to Ivan's arm, smiling brightly as he admired the red and white steamers that hung from the rafters.  
Putting up a friendly front may not have been his usual act, but he was more than willing to pretend if it meant that Francis would come to see that their one night stand was just that; for one night  
At least Ivan was being a good sport about everything, whether he wanted to antagonize Gilbert and his friends, or if he just liked dancing Vash didn't know. Frankly he didn't care, whatever it was it was mutually beneficial and he could leave it at that.  
  
A femme fatale if there ever was one, Natalya wandered in behind them. With hair styled like Veronica Lake and a figure hugging emerald green dress, heads turned. Alfred's included.  
Stumbling towards her as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his brand new suit jacket, Alfred quickly thought of the various compliments he could bestow upon her that would come across as platonic. But everything that ran through that blonde head of his was far too sentimental.  
"Wow Nat, you look, wow." he eventually blurted out, his tone coming across as something more than friendly.  
  
Natalya mumbled her thanks but her eyes were busy scanning the room, searching for that one face in particular. He stuck out like a sore thumb of course, students crowed around him and girls fawned over him. And like most everyone who decided to work in television, he relished the attention.  
Her eyes went wide as she noticed the host turn in her direction, he wasn't looking at her specifically, she should be so lucky, but the mere fact that she was in the presence of a celebrity was staggering. "Look," Natalya reached behind her, grasping at Alfred's arm to gain his attention. "It's Sadik Adnan."  
  
Alfred, who did not share in her excitement, pressed himself against the wall of the gym and snorted despite a stab of jealousy. "I didn't know you liked older men."  
  
Choosing to ignore Alfred's teasing, Natalya set off towards Sadik, her usual icy stare melting into something more alluring.

\---  
  
While the band began warming up with Frankie Avalon's 'Venus', Gilbert escorted Roderich inside the gym, arm in arm. They paused in the doorway, Roderich taking in the sights of the balloons, banners, and cameras that filled the usually bare venue, while Gilbert shielded his sensitive eyes from the spotlights.  
Roderich had attended much grander parties back home in Austria, but there was something so endearing about a gang of teenagers dressed in their Sunday best, standing on linoleum flooring as they waited to dance for the nation."You excited ?" Gilbert asked, already knowing the answer if Roderich's perpetual smile was anything to go by, but before Roderich could deliver it they were promptly shushed by another student who pointed towards the centre of the room.  
  
A clipboard in one hand, and a microphone in the other, a short blonde man with hair not dissimilar to Vash's began instructing the students. "Alright, so I'm Feliks and tonight I'll be taking the names of the best dancers for the dance off, but for now you can all just practise." His hands still full, Feliks spun on his heels and pointed a free finger at the band, "Take it away Feli."  
  
A brunet man with equally brown eyes that seemed to glisten under the lighting took to the centre of the stage with a guitar in hand and waved to the crowd. "Hi everyone, I'm Feliciano Vargas and these are my brothers Lovino and Enrico." He gestured behind him to two similar looking men. The man sitting behind a drum set had a darker complexion and darker hair compared to his brothers, and the man hovering about the keyboard was a ginger. But each man had a fly-away curl that verified their relation. "We're really excited to be playing for you all tonight, we've never played on t.v before. We haven't played many places actually, we only get to perform here thanks to Nonno."  
With a glare from one of his brothers, Feliciano quickly moved on, but the students had already made the connection between the trio and Vice Principal Augustus Vargas who was standing by the stage, grinning in excitement like the proud Grandfather he was. "Well anyway, nevermind. This is "I Wanna Love My Life Away" by Gene Pitney."  
  
The students rushed the makeshift dance floor, the clacking of heels almost drowning out the opening lyrics, but for Roderich and Gilbert there was a pause as they both wondered who was supposed to lead. Taking the initiative, Roderich took Gilbert's hand in his and began stepping in time with the beat.  
Gilbert rolled his eyes at Roderich, unimpressed with his designated role, but in a very diplomatic move Roderich compromised. "I supposed we can rotate positions."  
  
"Fine, but expect lots of dips when I take over."  
  
Without a word, Roderich stopped dancing and bent Gilbert over his arm, dipping him only inches off the floor. "A pre-emptive strike."

\---  
  
Amused by the couple, but unwilling to interrupt their moment, Feliks tapped the nearest shoulder he could find, which just so happened to belong to Vash. "So do you the names of these two ?"  
  
Letting Ivan's hands fall from his own, Vash scowled as he turned to answer Feliks. Wasn't it evident that he didn't want to be interrupted ? "Yeah, they're Fred and Ginger." Smirking to himself as Feliks jotted down the names, Vash moved to dance with Ivan once again, but his gaze lingered on a couple standing not far behind them. A wavy haired blond man was practically mauling the face off of his poor date. It was wonder that Principal Reinhardt hadn't broken it up by now.  
"Hey Ivan, take a look at this." Vash knew he shouldn't call attention to the pair, but they just couldn't be ignored. His hands were working their way through her long blonde hair. How on earth was it that he was the only one to have noticed ?  
Perhaps regaining a sense of self control, or more likely realizing that they were causing a scene, they pulled away from each other.  
Much to Vash's and Ivan's shared horror, the couple turned and they saw that it was Francis who'd been slobbering over none other than Brigitte Durand. Dancer extraordinaire, queen of the cards, and Ivan's ex.  
  
Ignoring Ivan's presence entirely, Francis approached Vash, his arm still wrapped around Brigitte's waist. "Ah Vash, there you are. Have you met Mona ?" Francis wore his usual broad smile, but Vash knew better than to dismiss it as a polite gesture, it was a look designed to gloat.  
  
Vash stuck his hand out to meet Brigitte's and shook it. "Yes I believe we've met once before." Releasing her hand, he turned and tilted his head towards Francis. "Have you introduced her to Roderich, you should get right on that."  
  
Francis' smile never fell, but he couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious of Vash. Did he have an ulterior motive in sending him to Roderich and Gilbert, or did he just want him out of his hair ? Knowing Vash it was probably the latter. "You're right I should."  
  
Pushing past a the countless happy couples, the pair took to the sidelines where they could get a better view of their peers. Francis craned his neck and balanced himself on his toes, looking out over the heads of his fellow students. One would think that a white haired man would stand out in a crowd, but apparently not.  
Seeing as Francis didn't seem to be in a hurry to rejoin the crowd, Brigitte took the opportunity to reprimand him. "I wasn't expecting for you to kiss me Francis. " Her voice was deep in an attempt to sound austere, but she couldn't bring it in herself to hold a grudge. Francis was a hopelessly romantic fool, determined to win Vash over. She didn't agree with his methods, but she couldn't fault his goals.  
  
Accepting all responsibility, Francis raised his palms. "I know, I know, I got a little carried away with the act. You truly a saint for coming tonight."  
  
Brigitte narrowed her blue eyes from behind her glasses. "I wouldn't be so sure. I wouldn't have come if I'd known that Ivan would be here." She paused and ran her fingers her hair, untangling any knots Francis may have left behind. "So this man that you're so keen to make jealous, tell me, is he usually so patronizing ?"  
  
Francis glanced sideways at Brigitte, and then off across the room towards Vash who was chatting with Elizabeta. "Actually, ordinarily he's a little more outwardly aggressive."

\---  
  
Sadik Adnan loved his job. He loved hosting, the pay was none to shabby, and he only had to work one night a week. But above all else he loved the spotlight.  
He had legions of fans in every last corner of the United States who sat around their sets to watch him each Saturday night. He'd even heard tell of the lucky few who owned colour televisions hosting get togethers during broadcasts. Of course Rydell was no exception.  
  
A blonde goddess approached him, her hips encased in emerald silk swaying as she walked. The look on her face screamed trouble, screamed siren, but she was oh so magnetic. There was always one at each of the National Bandstand dances. One woman whose lips painted red as a rose, or whose fluttering eyelashes would captivate him and send his heart aflutter.

Again, Rydell was no exception.  
  
Natalya positioned herself next to the stage, leaving only a camera between her an Sadik. Unsure of how to introduce herself to a celebrity, a man whose fanclub she was a card carrying member of, she simply offered him a polite nod as she tapped her foot along to the music.  
  
Sadik returned her greeting with a toothy grin, removing his trademark sunglasses as he leaned towards her. "Are you entered in the dance off yet. Felix is taking names." He glanced around for Felix, spotting him across the building taking the name of an exceptional flamenco dancer. "What _is_ your name anyway."  
  
"Natalya Arlovskaya"  
  
Sadik opened his mouth to speak, but paused, mentally repeating her surname and deciding he couldn't say it himself. "That's a mouthful."  
  
Natalya's blue eyes flashed with anger. Sadik may have been a tv star, and admittedly she was quite taken with him, but that didn't give him license to speak to her like that. "Would you like a mouthful of my fist ?"  
  
Sadik swallowed a lump in his throat, trouble indeed. Through what must have been a compassionate intervention at the hands of God himself, he was beckoned onstage as the band finished their song, leaving Natalya unable to make good on he threat.

\---  
  
Principal Reinhardt made his way onto the stage with Sadik following behind. His long blonde hair that usually cascaded down his back was tied up in sleek ponytail for the occasion.  
He tinkered with the microphone stand for a moment, raising it to a suitable height. "I'll be brief as I'm sure you'd prefer get on with the evening rather than listen to me." There was a rowdy whoop from the students that held up his speech. With a sigh he began again. "I'm reminding you all that you will be on national television, do not embarrass Rydell High. There are just two rules, if you're tapped on the shoulder it means you're out of the competition so leave the dance floor at once. Secondly, there is to be no tasteless dancing. If I see any gyrating I will not hesitate to contact your elders." He remained silent a moment, allowing the severity of his words to sink in before stepping aside and allowing Sadik to give his introduction.  
  
"It's great to be here in Rydell, the most rockin' town in all the United States" The students screeched like a pack of wild dogs at the mention of their home, very few, if any, caring that they were being pandered to. " I want to see you all having a good time tonight, bust some moves, break a leg. But above all else ignore the cameras and have a good time." Sadik glanced offstage to where Felix stood pointing at his watch and mouthing "Five seconds". He settled himself in front of the camera, straightening his suit as the students began their countdown. When they reached that all important number one he had already prepared a broad smile for the viewers at home. "Welcome to National Bandstand, I'm your host Sadik Adnan, coming to you live from Rydell High. It's what you've been waiting for all week, the dance off." The camera panned, keeping Sadik in view but now giving all at home a glimpse of the Vargas'. "Now here we go with The Vargas Trio playing the very apt, "Wild One" by Bobby Rydell."  
  
The dance floor was flooded with students once again, most of whom began showing off with hazardous lifts and even a few splits here and there. The teachers could only look on annoyed as a rebellious few began parading themselves in front of the cameras, waving and blowing kisses to their family and friends at home. It took a great deal of self restraint for Principal Reinhardt to stop himself from marching the offending students out the door, but that would require pulling them away from the cameras, and he just couldn't risk such an embarrassing act being broadcast. He'd have to wait for Monday to reprimand them.  
  
Sadik wasn't too bothered by the students actions; he'd been in the game long enough to grow used to the hopeful youngsters desperate for their few seconds of fame. It had become part of the job, and by now the only difficult part was manoeuvring his way around the clingy ones as he attempted to catch a glimpse of every couple in action.  
So far he'd felt rather impressed with a spectacled blonde. She looked as graceful as a swan with the hem of her crimson dress rising and falling with each twirl. Even though Sadik had been in the hosting business for quite some time, he still found himself awed with the speed of her footwork, it was a wonder that her partner managed to keep up.  
  
But the couple that interested him the most were two men. They moved together as if they were a single entity, their movements so fluid and in sync. If anyone had ever embodied the phrase "Dance like there's nobody watching", it was them.  
Noting the look of joy shared on their faces, which delighted Sadik, too often did people dance for the trophy instead of dancing for the fun it, he tapped the shoulders of most of the surrounding dancers. Those two would be a tough act to beat.  
  
Though the particular move didn't match up with the music, Gilbert pressed his forehead to Roderich's and shut his eyes. Roderich found it odd at first, but then it struck him that it wasn't the first time Gilbert had performed that action, but it was the first time that it didn't feel bittersweet. The last time they were so close was on their final night together at the beach, before their romance was sullied with separations and bravado.  
As they stood with their lips just inches apart, so close that they could feel the other's breath on their necks, they felt for the first time since the school year began that perhaps their relationship could return to it's original state of bliss. Roderich wasn't expecting an all out honeymoon period of course, no, trust was only starting to be built up again, but maybe if things continued down that road they would eventually blossom into something special. And dare he say it, love ?  
Roderich chewed his lip in attempt to disguise a grin. Did he the word "love" really just cross his mind as he thought of Gilbert ? He never would have dreamed of associating with anyone remotely like Gilbert prior to coming to Rydell, let alone grow attached. But he was glad he'd managed to get past his first impression, coming to see that there was so much more to Gilbert than hubris.  
  
As the song ended, and the Vargas' brothers began the opening lines to "Teenager In Love" by Dion & The Belmonts, the pair pulled apart and made their way to towards some benches for a quick rest. Their hearts were being faster than could possibly be healthy, and neither could be sure if it was just from exertion.  
They sat in a comfortable silence as they caught their breath, watching as couples gazing into their lover's eyes passed them by. Even Alfred had gotten in on the action, pulling Natalya around the dance floor.  
Alfred was a great dancer when it came to upbeat music, but his energy didn't transfer well to slow songs, and he stepped on Natalya's feet on more than one occasion. It was actually impressive how Natalya managed to put up with him, gritting her teeth despite the fact that her feet were probably bruised and swollen after repeated abuse.  
  
Just as Gilbert turned to Roderich, ready to joke about taking bets as to how long it would be until Natalya snapped, Francis approached them, Brigitte in tow.  
"There you are, you're hard to find for someone so conspicuous Gilbert." Francis threw his arm around Brigitte, ushering her forward. "I'd like for you both to meet Brigitte."  
  
Gilbert's face fell, that couldn't have been Brigitte Durand standing before him. He'd first met her years ago, but they hadn't seen each other since she'd gotten together with Ivan. It wasn't due to jealousy, one awkward date had proved that there'd never be anything between them, Gilbert simply avoided Ivan and his associates at all costs.  
Their date had gone terribly, as it turned out Gilbert and Brigitte had nothing in common. Brigitte liked ballet, card games, the opera, and Gilbert. . . , well Gilbert didn't. Most of their evening together was spent in complete silence, their conversations were tedious, each question getting a short answer and then it was back to staring down at their shoes. Gilbert never imagined that he'd see a silver lining in the situation, but the date had been so awful that he'd never bothered to tell Francis or Antonio. And he could only hope that Mona had been equally as hushed.  
  
Leaping from his seat before Brigitte could say anything incriminating, he offered her his hand. "Great to meet you, but I've gotta run, I just really love this song."  
  
Brigitte stood with her mouth agape, watching as Gilbert dragged Roderich onto the dance floor, insisting that he couldn't miss out on dancing to "Train Kept A Rollin'".  
  
Perhaps it was because the night was drawing to a close, or maybe it was just a popular song, but the dance floor was jam packed and the students jostled for space.  
With one hard blow from a careless stranger, Roderich was pushed away from Gilbert and off the dance floor entirely, while other couples filled the space between them. Cramped and unable to reach the sidelines, Gilbert threw his hand in the air and waved, hoping that Roderich would see and either join him for a final dance or guide him out. Bringing his arm back down, his elbow collied with another student.  
  
Hearing a pained moan, he turned and saw Brigitte nursing the shoulder he'd just struck. "Shit sorry, are you ok ?"  
  
Brigitte nodded. "I'll be fine, I'm positive that I'll still be able to dance." She paused and glanced around for Francis, but found nothing but a wall of bodies blocking her line of sight. "Not that it matters now I suppose."  
  
"You really wanted that trophy huh ?"  
  
"I'm a dancer of course I wanted it." Deciding that there was no point in waiting around for the song to end and missing her opportunity, she took Gilbert by the hand. "You wouldn't mind would you ? It's the final song and winning a dance contest on national television could be great exposure."  
  
Unobjecting, Gilbert widened his stance to give them some breathing room. Truth be told, he didn't know he was doing. Brigitte was faster than him, better than him, and her whispers of 'sugar foot' and 'tuck-in turn' meant absolutely nothing to his untrained ears. But apparently her skill compensated for what he lacked because the other students made a clearing for them, allowing a rather impressed Sadik to catch them in action and remark that he'd found his front runners.  
With only seconds left to the song, most dancers had stopped dancing completely, opting instead to stand back as Gilbert and Brigitte stole the show.  
  
Brigitte finished off with the splits and there was thunderous applause. Before Gilbert even had a chance to catch his breath, Sadik rushed beside him and shoved the dainty bronze trophy into his hands. "There you have it folks, our winners for this week. Now let's see our champions give us a solo dance."  
  
Crewman adjusted the spotlights, letting the beams travel through the crowds before coming to rest on Gilbert and Brigitte. But Gilbert could have sworn, hand on heart, that the spotlight lingered on the doorway as Roderich rushed out in a fury.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since I've updated this, I'm so sorry. The length of the chapter is not nearly long enough to justify the length of time this took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with Vash's parts and partly regretted my decision to cast him in Rizzo's role.  
> In the film, Rizzo's pregnancy scare is so important because she gets to deliver a smack down on slut shaming, it's critical to her character, and I just couldn't cut that. A replacement was needed and I eventually settled on rumour-mills and slut shaming. I realise my scenes don't convey the message as well as the film does, and for that I'm so sorry.  
> You might like to read this article about how wonderful and important Rizzo is http://www.indiewire.com/article/heroines-of-cinema-rizzo-from-grease  
> I've fucked with canon so much oh god.

Roderich and Gilbert stared at the projected image of Jack Lemon and Tony Curtis trotting down the train platform dressed in drag in "Some Like It Hot." Lovebirds in the surrounding cars had already lost interest in the film, opting for the backseat rather than the front; drive-in's weren't so much about cinema as they were convenient dark places out of the eyes of the general public.  
But Gilbert and Roderich sat quietly in the Beilschmidt family car. Roderich silently fuming that Gilbert had insisted he come, promising that he'd clarify everything, only for him to lounge around without a care in the world and with seemingly no intention of addressing his actions.  
  
It's not that Gilbert was unwilling to explain himself, rather he didn't know how to go about it. He had hoped that by taking Roderich to a nice semi-romantic setting, he would calm down and see that he really did care for him. But Roderich was not fickle enough to be won over by the price of admission and a bucket of popcorn.  
  
He was no wordsmith and he couldn't verbally reassure Roderich even if he were to try, but he could throw an arm around his shoulder and give him tight squeeze. Actions speak louder than words, isn't that how the saying goes ?  
  
"Don't," Roderich extracted Gilbert's arm from his shoulder and let it fall back into the man's own lap. "I came here tonight on the condition that you explain, so get to it."  
  
Gilbert's brows raised at the demanding language used. It was not like Roderich to be anything less than polite. Still, it was not as if his mood wasn't justified.  
In fact, up until now he'd more forgiving than Gilbert deserved. He was probably done for though, even if his actions were a genuine misunderstanding for once.  
  
Gilbert lit a cigarette, took a drag, and dangled an arm out of the window. He wasn't smoking out of craving, it was more of a diversionary tactic.  
If his lungs were inhaling smoke, he had a handy excuse to pause conversations, and if he watched the flame slowly creep towards him as the cigarette hung from his lips, he didn't have to make eye contact with Roderich. He could have stayed like that, silent until the cigarette burned down to the butt, but Roderich was getting impatient, quietly drumming his fingers on his knees.  
  
He exhaled. "Brigitte is a dancer, ballet, ballroom, pretty much all off it really. Winning a competition on TV could do a lot for her. Honestly, I didn't really think about it, I just did it."  
  
Roderich clicked his tongue. "That I'll believe. I wouldn't have thought anything of you dancing with her if you hadn't pretended not to know her, but your lies make me think you share a history."  
  
Gilbert groaned and clutched at the back his hair in frustration. "It's not history, it was one date we never date dated." He turned his head to the side and saw that Roderich was glaring. "We weren't compatible. Jeez, she was Francis' date for the dance and she's Ivan's ex, do you really think I'd get involved ?"  
  
Roderich's eyes shot back towards Gilbert. "It was not your loyalty to your friends I was questioning."  
  
Gilbert winced. Roderich may have been, in a word, respectable. But his words had bite. "Look, I get that I've not exactly been the greatest guy towards you, but I'm not that low. If your calling me a cheat, you're dead wrong."  
  
Roderich let out a puff of air. "I'm not calling you a cheat, an idiot maybe. You do understand that if you'd never lied about Brigitte in the first place, this whole mess could have been avoided ? You owe Brigitte just as much of an apology as you do me, she feels awful about what happened." Roderich did not bother to mention that he had heard this from Elizabeta who had heard from Vash, who had heard from Ivan, who himself had heard from Brigitte.  
  
"Yeah, I am sorry you know. To both of you." Gilbert paused, needing a moment to work up whatever courage he needed to continue. "You deserve better than the way I've treated you. I'll try to show you how much you matter from now on."  
Gilbert's voice was left unheard, drowned out by the lecherous whistles and howls brought about by Marilyn Monroe's formal introduction onscreen.

\---  
  
Elizabeta stood, primping her hair in the filthy bathroom mirror of the theatre's even filthier bathrooms. Vash and Natalya flanked her, all the while being jostled by hasty movie-goers.  
It was always the same between showings, a mad rush of patrons fighting for a position in front of a clean portion of the mirror, desperate to rid their teeth of popcorn kernels before the next film began, the dash to reapply lipstick smudged in moments of passion.  
It was the same in the men's room, Vash knew. Behind each sink would be a man with a comb in hand, and with hair greasier than a portion of Frosty's chili cheese fries.  
  
"So are we sticking around for the second feature or are you going to run out on us again tonight ?" Elizabeta's eyes darted towards Vash via the mirror, and he immediately shrunk into himself.  
God he was such an ass, Elizabeta was just a bystander in his altercation with Francis, and what's worse is that he couldn't be sure that it was the incident at Frosty's she was referring to; he had run off at the sleepover too. But he could tell she meant him no ill will by her silvery voice, when Elizabeta felt mad she was not averse to letting you know.  
  
Vash cleared his throat, deciding he really should answer her before she wondered if there was something wrong. "I suppose so, it's like there's a better way to spend the night." he remarked with the signature apathy he'd all but trademarked.  
  
Elizabeta nodded, and turned to face Natalya. "Do I look alright ?" She asked, tucking a flower pin behind her ear. "Convertibles seem like a good idea, but you realise your mistake once it gets the least bit windy."  
  
Natalya quickly gave her the once over, scanning her from head to toe. "New skirt ?"  
  
It was peach, gathered, and as Vash decided, brand new. Elizabeta didn't even have to confirm before Vash felt the shame burning in his cheeks. He could try to blame Francis for fueling his wrath in the first place, for teasing, for daring to think anything could ever happen between them. But this was all on him.  
  
"No need to look so glum, I could have made you pay."  
  
"It needed to be replaced ?" He was probably supposed to laugh at that, a joke about his frugality, the lack of depth to his pockets. But he wasn't offended or hurt, he just felt guilty.  
  
"Nah, just needed dry cleaning. You're lucky I had other things on my mind that night, otherwise I would have gotten my payback." Elizabeta pressed he back against the sink, her hands gripping the edge of the countertop. "But I do think I'm owed an explanation however, so what on Earth is going on with you and Francis ?"  
  
Ah so that was it, he may have been spared the price of dry cleaning but forgiveness came at a cost, and as much as he wanted Elizabeta back on side, he wasn't prepared to pay it. "Nothing is going on with Francis."  
  
Instead of insisting, which is what Vash expected Elizabeta to do, she simply cocked her head towards the doorway and stared at Natalya. And as if it had been preplanned, Natalya played her part, taking a step backwards. "I'm going back to the car" she said, buttoning her jacket before heading out in to the cold night air. "Alfred's probably wondering what's keeping us."  
  
"I should go too, I shouldn't be in here anyway." He knew that no one would say anything, if nobody had objected to him hanging out in the women's room yet, they weren't likely to start. But whatever excuse served to get him out of the situation.  
  
Elizabeta took a step in front of him, blocking the exist and stopping him dead in his tracks. The corners of her lips cracked into what Vash reckoned was supposed to be a comforting smile. Not that it achieved it's desired effect. "Look Vash, if you want to talk about whatever happened, I'm officially lending my ear. Otherwise, get over this silly lovers' spat you and Francis are having."  
  
"What the hell did he say to you ?" Vash tried not to show his anger, or any emotion whatsoever, but his resolve failed him and he couldn't help baring his teeth. He didn't mean to sound so loud, he didn't mean to give everything away.  
  
Elizabeta's mouth hung open in disbelief. That was just a silly little jab, good natured ribbing that everyone partook in, she wasn't expecting to hit the nail on the head "Francis, really ? You and him ?" The volume at which she spoke seemed to become apparent to her, and her next words were in a quiet, almost breathless voice. "Well.. uh.. if he makes you happy I'll support you completely."  
  
Vash glared, no he was not happy. He was decidedly very unhappy. That thing with Francis was a one off, something that would go unspoken between them for the rest of their natural born lives, something that was supposed to be promptly forgotten. Though Francis himself didn't seem to get the memo.  
Vash shut his eyes and took in a deep breath through his nose, hoping to handle the matter calmly. "Look, Elizabeta." His eyes gazed off to the left, hardly believe he was having such a conversation, let alone in such a setting. "There is no Francis and me, it's not, it never was like that. It was a onetime thing. If you could keep it to yourself . . ."  
  
"Absolutely, you shouldn't even have to ask." Elizabeta promised, understanding yet oh so confused.  
  
But the damage was already done. The impromptu nature of their heart to heart lent itself well to eavesdroppers. Whispers and gossip, facts distort as they're passed on.  
Whether it was done with malicious intent, who could say ? But the fact of the matter was that the story that spread through the drive-in that night was far separated from the truth.  
The most simple, and most optimistic explanation was that "Vash told Elizabeta about Francis in the bathroom" became "Vash and Francis in the bathroom" which in turn evolved into nothing but slander.  
Regardless of where it began, it became something sinister. As far as Rydell was concerned, Vash was easy.

\---  
  
Some would say that Gilbert was a prideful man, well those who had never had their first impressions challenged did. But truth be told, Gilbert had never known pride like he had when Greased Lightning rolled out of the garage, shiny and bright as if it had come straight from the dealership.  
Gilbert knew that the credit wasn't solely his, Antonio's latent mechanical skills are what made the car run like it did, but the sense of accomplishment overwhelmed him nonetheless, he had helped to make that happen. He had assisted in turning that rust bucket into something sleek and beautiful.  
  
"Antonio, Gilbert." Francis called, not looking at his friends as he spoke, instead he rested his gaze firmly on the car, trailing his fingers along the glistening bonnet.  
The men drew close and Francis voice grew thick. "Do you recall how I asked you to think about racing Ivan ?" Francis did not wait for a reply before continuing and turned towards them. "Well I've decided I want to. Greased Lightning is more impressive than I ever dreamed it could be, and I'm willing to prove it's worth."  
  
"You should let me check over the car before and after the race then." Antonio said, electing himself as the one-man pit crew.  
  
Francis smiled towards Antonio and then turned to Gilbert and gripped him by the shoulders. "Gilbert my oldest friend, my childhood companion, my-"  
  
"Get to the point, Francis."  
  
Francis lifted a hand and flicked Gilbert on the nose before returning his hand to his shoulder. "As I was saying, will you be my second in command ?"  
  
"You've always got to make a song and dance about everything, but yeah, sure." Gilbert said, rubbing his nose.  
  
"It's sweet." Antonio interjected.  
  
Positively beaming, Francis stretched out his arms and pulled Antonio and Gilbert into a tight embrace. He mumbled encouraging words in a mish-mash of French and English that only he himself understood, but Gilbert chose to interpret it as Francis swearing defeat on Ivan.

\---  
  
Vash had heard the whispers, the hushed voices that lingered behind him wherever he went. The words were barely audible at times, but they were there, and he didn't have to hear them to know what they were saying.  
  
He had managed to survive the day with his pride intact, he was aloof, uncaring. Well, at least until when Roderich approached him.  
  
"Vash, there you are. I was wondering how you were. . . if there was anything I could do for you ?"  
  
"Fine." Vash paused. "but thanks for asking."  
  
Their conversation awkward and stunted, Roderich changed direction. "Have you heard that Gilbert and Francis are racing Ivan ? I'm hoping I can talk some sense into them."  
  
"Considerate of you, but Gilbert might just be immune to reason." Vash replied, surprisingly grateful for any conversation that wasn't centred around himself.  
  
Before Roderich had a chance to refute that, a gaggle of students pushed passed Vash as they exited the through the school's back entrance.  
  
 _"Yeah that's him." One whispered to the others. "I hear if you pay him the slightest compliment he's putty in your hands."_  
  
 _"Ick, how desperate."_  
  
Roderich didn't know how to react to that. Far be it for him to judge, whatever Vash got up to in his own time was Vash's business alone. But it made the situation between them painfully awkward. Unable to look him in the eye, he settled for staring at his feet.  
  
"I've never strung anyone along you know."  
  
"Pardon." Roderich looked up and saw that a weak smile on Vash's lips, one that he hadn't noticed earlier, was beginning to drop back into his typical blank expression.  
  
"I'm saying that there are much worse things than sleeping with someone. I've never let someone think they'll get somewhere when they won't, and then play coy." Vash's finger was raised and pointed, jabbing at the air to emphasize his point. He wasn't angry or aggressive, all Roderich saw was defensiveness.  
  
"What am I supposed to do, toss my hair and bat my lashes, hoping that Mr. Right walks along ? Oh, please. I don't see what the problem is, I've never been a user, I've never set out to be a heartbreaker. " Vash suddenly seemed to stand straighter, to speak clearer. "The point is that I've never deliberately hurt anyone, even when they hurt me."  
  
And like that, a fog lifted and Roderich learned something new about Vash. He was blunt, sarcastic, unapologetic , but maybe a little bit vulnerable too.


	7. Chapter 7

It was not the setting most people would have thought of when imagining a large congregation of teenagers, but the dried riverbed beneath the 6th Street Bridge was the perfect place to race without any obstacles, or intervention from the police. People didn't go there much, and when they did it was always for something like a race; that much was visible from the skid marks streaked here and there.

Ivan had brought with him a large, and intimidating support base, that lined his side of the 'racetrack.' His people were mostly tall men, with menacing faces and hands that looked as though they could snap your neck in half if need be. But Ivan, unlike the rest, was his own unique brand of calm. It could very well have been smugness, or an attempt to lure them into a false sense of security , but after all, this was Ivan, and no one could ever be sure.

While Ivan had brought a throng, Francis had a meager following in comparison, and his supporters were not united like Ivan's were; his friends had spread out into their own separate groups. Alfred and Natalya leaned back against the bonnet of the Jones family car and chatted amongst themselves, Elizabeta and Vash ignored all but each other as they spoke together in hushed tones about his god-awful day, and Roderich was somewhat separate from the rest, thinking about just how idiotic the whole thing was and how to broach the subject with Gilbert.

Together, Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio approached Ivan, but growing closer they could tell that he was looking through them, focused instead on Greased Lightning.

"It looks good, much better than the first time I saw it." Ivan said, in a tone that may have been impressed. "But new paint doesn't make a car fast. You won't be changing your mind will you ?"

Gilbert looked to Francis for approval before answering. "Not a chance."

"Good, because we're competing for ownership, okay ?" That had come as a surprise. There had been no mention of anything close to a gamble beforehand. Perhaps Ivan derived some pleasure from stringing Francis along, or maybe he'd seen that Greased Lightning had scrubbed up well and deemed it to be something worth owning. Regardless of the intent, it succeeded in ruffling a few feathers.

Gilbert laughed, dry and false, and did not wait again for Francis' reaction before turning to him and  whispering into his ear. "Please wipe that smug smile off that bastard's face."

Feeling put on the spot, Francis raised his hands to politely excuse himself, and pulled his friends away for a quick consultation.

Only metres behind them, Natalya and Alfred rested themselves against the bonnet, seemingly more like observers than supports, but in truth Alfred was more confident than anyone else. He'd seen the work put into Greased Lightning, the combined effort of restoring that old banger, and had absolute faith in his friends' abilities.  
  
Natalya, on the other hand, seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. "It's an awkward position to be in, Francis either risks his car or loses his pride."

Optimistic, Alfred interrupted. "He won't lose."

"We hope," she added.

There wasn't much Alfred could do until Francis decided on things, as sure as he felt that Francis could, and would indeed win, he also understood the dangers involved. Uncertain as to how long he would have to wait for a decision, Alfred reclined against the car with his hands beneath his head. His feet pushed forward, digging into the gravel and raising dust into the air.  
  
He propped himself up on his elbows, seeing that he had unearthed something shiny by his feet, "See a penny pick it up . . . I tell you Nat, this is a sign." Alfred ducked down and quickly returned with a silver dime between his fingers.

"The universe is working in Francis' favour, is it ?" she said, grinning ever so slightly.  
  
"Exactly." he laughed, twirling the coin between his fingers. "Glad to see we're on the same page."  
  
Alfred made his way towards Greased Lightning. Antonio had his head beneath the bonnet, giving the engine a quick once over before the race, and Gilbert was already seated in the passenger's seat; ready and raring to go.

Francis had draped himself over the car door, deep in conversation with Gilbert. "Yes I'll do it, but just where did this idea of competing for ownership even come from ?" He was accepting the wager, but that wasn't to say his mind was free of worry. He was well aware of the possible consequences, and each scenario ate away at him, tying knots in his stomach.

Gilbert scratched the back of his neck. "Maybe Brigitte is rubbing off on him, she likes cards, gambling, that sorta stuff."  
  
"Hey Francis, got a good luck charm for 'ya." Alfred approached him and handed the coin over, but slipping through Francis' fingers, it landed in the dust.

While Francis was on one knee retrieving it, Antonio slammed the bonnet of the car down. Everything seemed to be in working order, ticking over nice and smoothly. He'd done all he could, and the matter was out of his hands. "If it were in any better condition it would fly."  
  
"Great, so were ready to go, then ?" Gilbert asked, opening the car door and colliding with Francis' head. He'd not heard the faint crack of Francis' nose, and he didn't realise that the sudden crowd had not gathered around him out of excitement for the race, until he attempted to take a step forward and found Francis crumpled at his feet in a heap.

"My god, he's out cold."

"Give him some room to breathe."

Vash dropped to his knees, and pulled Francis' head onto his lap. Though there were plenty of onlookers surrounding him, including Brigitte and various members of Ivan's group, he only acknowledged Roderich's outstretched hand to accept a handkerchief and wipe the trickles of blood from Francis' nose

Impatient, and frankly very worried, Vash shook Francis by the shoulders. "You're scaring me."

It must have only been seconds, but it felt like hours before Francis opened his eyes and blinked through blurred vision.  
  
"Francis, are you all right ? I am so sorry." Gilbert asked, a weight lifted from his shoulders. Though Francis hadn't been out long, each second that ticked by weighed heavily on those around him; Gilbert in particular, who shouldered the guilt.

"Fine, Fine, never better." Brushing off all concerns, Francis attempted to sit up but fell back into Vash's lap out of dizziness.

"You can't drive like this." Antonio frowned. "Gilbert should go in your place."

Reluctantly, Francis agreed.  As difficult as it was to hand over such an important task, it would be much harder to steer with double vision.

"You cannot be serious." Roderich had found the whole thing ridiculous to begin with, he'd never pretend to understand the machismo that drove people to strap themselves inside tonnes of metal and compete at high speeds. He'd not found the words to voice his concerns after Ivan announced the conditions of the race, but after Francis' injury, something had to be said. "You've not even begun to race and someone is already hurt. Call this off."

While Francis was escorted to Alfred's car by Vash and Elizabeta, Gilbert took Roderich under the arm and guided him down the riverbed for a more private discussion.  
  
"It's foolish and you know it." Roderich said, shaking Gilbert off him and folding his arms. "Even if you do win, you might wreck the car in the process."

Gilbert shrugged his shoulders. "Look, it's Francis car, it's his call." That wasn't strictly true, he could easily refuse, load the gang into the car and drive off, but of course that would scar his pride, and there was no way he'd deny himself the chance to wipe the floor with Ivan Braginsky.

"No, you're the one driving, it's _your_ call. Put an end to this madness."

"Honestly, it pretty much sounds like you want it to be your decision."

Roderich arms dropped to his sides, his hands balled into fists. As much as he wanted to shout, he had enough sense not to make a scene, and settled for spitting back through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare. Don't try to twist my concern for you into something selfish. This isn't about control, I'm just looking out for you, because as stupid as you are, it would kill me if you were to get yourself hurt."

Gilbert raised his hands in an admission of guilt. "You're right, that was uncalled for."

Roderich scoffed. "But you're not sorry enough to quit this, right ?"

"Yeah. . ." Gilbert would never admit it, but he was far easier to read than he believed, and to Roderich he was completely transparent. "But if it makes you feel better, I promise it'll be the last stupid thing I ever do."

"I somehow doubt that." Roderich said, he didn't doubt that Gilbert meant what he said, but follow through would be a problem.

"Oh ha-ha, but I'm serious. I'm trying to compromise here."

"Noble of you. But compromises are a dual effort, what's my part in this."

"Well  if I try to clean my act up a bit, you can try to be less of a stick in the mud." Roderich shot him a glare and Gilbert quickly back peddled. "Kidding, kidding, don't take that seriously. But I guess we've just got to talk this stuff over when it comes up.  I suppose part of compromising is figuring out that neither of us are going to change who we are, but we should try to meet in the middle a bit. What do you think ?"  
  
"I wondering when you got so insightful, or honest for that matter." Roderich hadn't expected anything like that, the Gilbert standing before him was a far cry from the Gilbert who was too proud to recognise him when the school year began.

"I have my moments." he shrugged. "But I guess I started thinking these things over after we spoke at the drive-in.  I ruined to dance by lying, so after we had that chat I figured I needed to be a honest."  
  
"While we're on the subject of honesty, I should mention that I detest the beach."

Gilbert gave him Roderich a congratulatory slap on the back. "You see ? You were compromising before I even brought it up."

They turned to the sound of a forced cough coming from behind them, and found Ivan already seated in his Hell's Chariot. "We haven't got all day."

Gilbert threw his hand behind him, dismissing Ivan, but never broke eye contact with Roderich. "I'm going to go for this, alright ?"

Roderich pursed his lips, he wasn't going to force Gilbert into making the safer, and therefore correct decision, but he wasn't going to say 'yes' either. "If you absolutely must."  
  
Gilbert smiled, in an almost sympathetic manner. "I must."

\---  
  
In the centre of the track stood Brigitte, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and worry all at once. It was true she did like a gamble every now and then, she loved racing and the Grand Prix too, but when it came to others taking risks, it was an entirely different matter all together. Twisting a handkerchief; the makeshift chequered flag, in her hands, she looked back and forth between the two cars in front of her.

  
"The rules are simple, once I wave this handkerchief you go and don't stop until you reach the red line marked out behind me. Toris, Raivis, and Eduard are waiting there and will declare the winner." Alfred and Natalya had also made their way to the finish line. As friends of Gilbert, they tagged along behinds Ivan's group to ensure a fair outcome. Not that they were needed. Anyone with the slightest bit of insight on those three cousins knew that their bond with Ivan Braginsky wasn't an unbreakable one. It's not that friendship with Ivan was somehow an objectionable concept,  it's just that they often found themselves in some less than ideal situations when they were with him.  
  
Brigitte spoke again, her voice coming out harsher than expected. "And I want a nice, fair race, don't try anything underhanded. Are we clear ?"  
  
There was a nod from both men, and with that Brigitte inhaled sharply, raised her arm above her head, and brought down the chequered flag.  
  
Gilbert put his foot down, speeding off, and took an early lead, keeping a few feet ahead of Ivan as they travelled beneath the bridge. Not that he'd noticed his position; he was far too concerned with the finish line ahead of him to look back at how Ivan was fairing, or to even glance down to check the speedometer.  
  
He didn't think it was possible to go any faster, but he forced his foot down on the accelerator  anyway. Entirely focused on winning, on leaving Ivan in the dust behind him, he gripped the steering wheel tight, knowing that if winners were decided on determination alone he'd have won long before the race began.

A jolt.

Gilbert looked behind him, thinking that he must have slowed down without realising, and that Ivan must have accidentally collided with the back of the car. But Ivan didn't look apologetic, there was no shock or worry in his expression. No, Ivan was smiling.  
  
Another jolt.  
  
They were intentional. Crashes were accepted as a possible outcome of drag racing, so even Gilbert, as distrustful as he was of Ivan, could have believed that the first collision was an accident. But when Gilbert turned towards him to inspect the damage to the rear of the car, Ivan's eyes were locked on his, taking credit for what he'd done.

Gilbert veered off to left in an attempt to break away from Ivan, and only then could the spectators see what had been done to the car. The bumper was hanging on, just barely, and the paint, which had taken a great deal of care and time to apply, was now scratched and worn after the car's first outing.

The reaction from the onlookers outroared the deafening sounds of the engines, and Gilbert couldn't quite tell if they were rooting for or against him. Ivan's supporters certainly outnumbered his own, but who's to say that Ivan's fans would support his dirty tactics ? Gilbert did his best to block out the sounds and he wouldn't agonise over the motivations behind those cheers . He would allow nothing to distract him.  
  
He took a twisted zig-zagged path to keep Ivan from ramming the back of his car again, but wherever he turned, Ivan was hot on his tail. He was beginning to wonder if Ivan was more interested in destroying him and the car than winning. The former would most likely bring about the latter; Ivan could travel at a snail's pace, practically crawl to the finish line while Gilbert lay half dead in the flaming metal carcass of Greased Lightning and it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference towards the outcome.

If he didn't do something drastic soon, Ivan would crash into him again, or at the very least, overtake him. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Gilbert steered the car up the sloped concrete riverbank. Predictably enough, Ivan followed; there was not a hope in hell that Ivan would give up without a fight.  
  
In what had become a literal uphill battle, Gilbert pushed on forward, silently begging gravity to punish Ivan, and only Ivan. He was on the home stretch, he only needed to hang on for a little while longer and he'd be home free. But Ivan would not go down easily, if he couldn't outdo him, he'd employ a new underhanded move; he slammed his palm down on the horn.  
  
Gilbert's ears rung, but he managed to keep his hands on the wheel, never reaching to cover his ears, despite his reflexes. Ivan continued honking, and it was clear to Gilbert that he would do anything to ensure a win.

And so would he. Maybe he was pulling himself down to Ivan's level, but frankly he didn't care anymore. If Ivan was willing to play dirty, then Gilbert was just levelling the playing field. The moral high ground would have made a great place to look down his nose at Ivan, but winning the race, by any means necessary, was his foremost priority.  
  
Still travelling along the riverbank, Gilbert looked ahead for a window of opportunity, for anything that would stop Ivan dead in his tracks. He was desperate, well and truly desperate. Try as he might to hold onto his lead, Ivan was gaining on him, and he had no way of knowing whether he'd crash into him or overtake him.  
  
 Maybe Gilbert was more ruthless than he thought himself, because it didn't take him long to find an opening. There was a drainage pipe up ahead. He'd been playing on turning back onto the riverbed when the time came, but maybe he could hang on a little longer and turn away at the last second. If all were to go according to plan, Ivan wouldn't have time to react and would crashed right into it.  
  
Of course, that plan came with its set of risks and challenges. Gilbert could miscalculate, make his turn  just a little too late and crash himself. And who's to say that Ivan would fall for it ? He could easily take the opportunity to overtake Gilbert,  and even if he did fall into Gilbert's trap there was no guarantee that he would crash. But Gilbert had to try it. Even if he lost, he knew he'd regret not giving it his all. If he didn't chance it, and lost, the "what if's" would plague him for years to come.  
  
Gilbert fought the urge to shut his eyes as he approached the drain, and fought against every instinct that told him to turn away. He kept driving, growing closer and closer until there was only inches between him and it, and then he swerved.

He drove down onto the riverbed and on towards the finish line, the sound of his racing heartbeat overwhelming all else, until a mighty bang came from behind him. He could have turned around and got a good luck at Ivan's demise, but he wouldn't allow himself to indulge until he'd crossed that finish line.  
  
Alfred rushed over to greet Gilbert  as soon as he passed the red line, with Natalya following behind, not quite as energetic as Alfred, but no less pleased with Gilbert's win.  
  
Before Gilbert even had a chance to exit the vehicle and find his legs again, Alfred was upon him, throwing an arm around his neck and congratulating him on his win. "Gosh, what a race, it was like something out of the Indianapolis 500."  
  
Natalya raised a brow, "You've been ?"  
  
"No, but I've tuned in on the radio."  
  
While Alfred and Natalya chatted amongst themselves, Gilbert took the opportunity to survey the damage done to Ivan's car from a distance. The front bumper was crushed and had fallen off, as had a hubcap, the hood of the car had popped open; presumably upon impact with the drain pipe, and the scratches seemed to mar the entire surface of the vehicle.  
  
Gilbert didn't get long to stand and stare; Francis and Vash were quick to make their way over to him, despite their earlier troubles. Francis gushed and lavished Gilbert with praise, working in plenty of unfavourable remarks toward Ivan and his behaviour. The crowd grew around him, and soon enough he was sitting in the front seat, with Francis riding shotgun, ready for a lap of honour.  
  
___  
  
Back towards the starting line, Roderich stood alone, as Elizabeta made her way towards the celebration. His heart pounded, not yet having calmed down from the stress of the race. Even as a spectator, it was completely and utterly terrifying to watch, yet exhilarating all the same. He was enthralled by it, despite his earlier misgivings, though he'd never tell Gilbert as much.

"Elizabeta wait."  
  
Elizabeta turned, a small frown appearing on her lips. "Upset about the race ?"  
  
"Actually, no." Roderich replied, sounding almost surprised with himself. By all rights, he should have been upset, he was not long ago, even. But his fury seemed to melt away the instant the flag went down. He didn't fancy himself a newly awakened petrolhead, but there was a palpable adrenaline rush that he couldn't ignore, perhaps Gilbert's recklessness had rubbed off on him.  Or maybe it was all in the spirit of compromise, because when you care about someone, their happiness becomes your happiness. It doesn't matter how philistine you find their hobbies, the very fact that you love them is enough to make their most boorish interests seem appealing, and ...  
 _Love_ ? What a thought.  
  
"Then what is it ?" Elizabeta asked, her face softening.

"I was wondering if we could go back to your place ? I need your help with something."

\---  
  
Class let out, another Summer arrived, and a whole year of students passed through the school doors for the very last time. As per tradition, the season kicked off with celebratory carnival. A usually barren field on the school grounds grew lively, packed with countless rides, amusements, and hundreds of students to enjoy them.

The Ferris wheel turned slowly, giving young friends or lovers a chance to reminisce about their past years, or the chance to plot out their future courses together. The bumper cars drew a louder crowd; the people would whoop and holler after a particularly good blow to another driver, but it didn't much hold a candle to Gilbert's race against Ivan.  
  
Gilbert strolled in, passed the strongman game, passed the ring toss, and made his way towards the bumper cars where Francis and Antonio were standing. He looked barely recognizable; gone was his typical leather jacket, replaced by a white letterman sweater adorned with a bright red "R" for Rydell.  
  
"Did you raid the lost and found ?" Francis asked, gesturing towards Gilbert's torso. "Where did this come from ?"  
  
"I was on the track team for a week, wasn't I ? I earned this." Gilbert replied, swatting Francis' hand away. At least he felt he'd earned it, was a week enough ? It was too late to return it at this point.  
  
"Well I'm not going to pretend to like the emperor's new clothes, you don't look at all yourself." Francis frowned, scanning his eyes over Gilbert's outfit, considering his sudden changes. "Really Gil, why are you dressed like that ?"  
  
Gilbert shrugged, trying to downplay his actions. "Roderich and me are two really different people. I'm just trying to show an interest in the stuff he likes. We're meeting in the middle" Was it really that hard to understand ? Francis himself was in love, infatuated with, whatever, with Vash, and they were totally different. Shouldn't Francis get it ?  
  
"And Roderich's interests lie in knitwear ?"  
  
"He does wear a lot of sweater-vests." Gilbert protested feebly. Maybe he hadn't thought everything through enough, but he was trying. "Dumb move ?"  
  
Antonio, a bystander to Gilbert and Francis' discussion, found his eyes wandering through the crowds, searching for nothing in particular. But something, rather _someone_ caught his eye. At first he couldn't be sure if he was seeing who he thought he was, but their entourage gave it all away. In shock, he elbowed Francis in the arm to draw his attention.  
  
Francis looked to where Antonio had directed him, and his eyes went wide. He immediately turned back to face Gilbert. "Maybe it was, but it looks like you're not the only one with ridiculous notions."  
Elizabeta, Alfred, Vash, and Natalya were making their way over, with Roderich in the centre of them, he himself having undergone a style change. Instead of his usually, wholly unremarkable attire, he was decked in leather, from his jacket right down to his skin tight pants.  
  
"Roderich ?" There was a catch in Gilbert's throat. "You look different."  
  
Roderich snorted. "I could say the same to you."  
  
Gilbert did his best to pick his jaw up off the ground, Roderich's outfit stunned him, but he still liked to play it cool. "Well, I did say I'd clean up my act. Compromises and all."  
  
"We seem to have had similar ideas." Roderich looked down at his outfit. He was boiling, he chaffed, he wondered how on Earth anyone could function while wearing leather."You did say something about me being less of a stick in the mud. I'm compromising too."  
  
"Compromising usually means talking things over, you know, not raiding each other's wardrobes." Vash snickered. There was no malice in his tone. Honestly, he was beginning to find it somewhat endearing how completely out of their depths they seemed to be when it came to matters of the heart. Maybe it was comforting to find a pair who were worse when it came to their feelings than he was.  
  
"He is right," Roderich said, removing his jacket and passing it back to Elizabeta. "I just look silly dressed like this. I _feel_ silly dressed like this."  
  
Gilbert nodded, not agreeing exactly, it was more that he could relate. "And I'm just not a sweater type of guy."  
  
Gilbert chuckled. "But I am."  
  
"Do you want it ? I'm never going to wear it again." Gilbert said, taking the sweater off and tossing it to Roderich.  
  
"That wasn't a request I-" The words died on Roderich lips, it was a nice gesture and he should just accept it.  
  
There was a silence then, an uneasy moment with two people not knowing who should bare their soul first. It grew more and more uncomfortable with each passing second until finally Gilbert took the plunge.  
  
"Look, I know I'm not exactly the kind of person you'd want to bring home to your parents, but I'm trying to be the kind of guy you deserve." Gilbert looked down to his shoes, breaking eye contact until he knew what to say next. "Changing my look was pretty stupid, but I'm trying."

"I'm glad to hear it. Because I've got my heart set on you, Gilbert." Roderich knew his words were cheesy, but they poured out of him like a torrent. "When I moved here, all I wanted was to finish up the school year and go back home again. But things change, and now you're all that I want anymore."

Roderich couldn't say how exactly he ended up in Gilbert's arms; whether he'd made the first step or not. The brain filters out useless information, and Roderich's had unconsciously decided that the moments leading up to it were irrelevant. The fact that they clung together, face buried in the crook of the other's neck, swearing unending devotion to each other through heartfelt whispers, was all that was worth recording. He'd have agreed, if he were to have reviewed the footage himself.

  
The rest of the group stood off to the side, awkwardly attempting to strike up conversations amongst themselves while they gave Roderich and Gilbert some privacy, and collectively they made a great show of seeming interrupted when they couple finally pulled apart and returned their attention towards them.  
  
Alfred was the first to speak. "So that's everybody back together in time for graduation, huh ?"  
  
"Who's everybody." Roderich's brow narrowed.  
  
"That would be us." Francis said, slinging an arm around Vash and squeezing his shoulder. "It may have taken a concussion on my part for him to realise his feelings, but here we are."  
  
Vash clenched his jaw, forgiving Francis' words on account of his aforementioned concussion.

Sensing the mood, Elizabeta quickly changed the direction of the conversation, playing peace keeper as she always did. Things really were getting back to normal. "We have a whole Summer ahead of us, what are we going to do with ourselves ?"  
  
"Go to the beach, I guess." Alfred said, striking up nausea inside Roderich.  
  
"We could drive the new car past Ivan's house." Francis suggested, chuckling to himself."After we get it fixed up, of course."  
  
Elizabeta laughed too, and wondered how many more of those moments they'd share. They'd have a Summer together, sure, but come September they'd be expected to go out into the real world and act like the adults they only felt they were on paper. "Let's make this Summer count, I don't want us to ever drift apart."  
  
"Nah, that's never going to happen." Gilbert replied, looking towards Roderich. The unlikelihood of their particular group of friends forming astounded him, eight friends, mostly first-generation immigrants, had somehow ended up in a single location and became a beautiful collective. When last Summer ended, Gilbert fully expected to never see Roderich again, but there they were, against all odds.

People find their way back to each other.  
  



End file.
